


Détrempé

by ratgrandpa2000 (orphan_account)



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bed-Wetting, Desperation, Hints of Ageplay, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Omorashi, Potentially Developing into Full Ageplay, Vulnerable Hannibal Lecter, Wetting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:08:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26207704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/ratgrandpa2000
Summary: Will shrugged. "I'm not sure you have much of a choice, Doctor. You don't look like you can wait much longer." After a quick glance out to make sure that traffic showed no signs of moving right then, Will leaned over just a tad, closing the distance between himself and Hannibal. He was pleased to see the man shrink back slightly, as though frightened. He ought to be. This was really the least Will could do to exact his revenge on Hannibal. It wouldn't be enough, he knew, but it was a nice start.------Will decides he likes seeing Hannibal's perfect composure shatter.
Relationships: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 35
Kudos: 116





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mothman (uwugenides)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/uwugenides/gifts).



> So I hadn't written fic in round about six years? Figured I'd get back into it with something nice and easy, a good ol' tropey car wetting. Ended up evolving into a little more than that? There's hints of future ageplay in this, so be warned if that's not your thing.
> 
> Beta'd by my darling dearest @mothman!

"Will. Pull over." A command, not a request.

There was an almost imperceptible anxiety in his voice--imperceptible to anyone other than Will. He took his eyes from the road for a moment to take a look at his companion. Hannibal was staring fixedly out the window, thighs pressed together slightly more than they'd usually be and one hand bunched tightly in the fabric of his slacks. To the outside observer, he'd likely look mildly uncomfortable at most, but Will knew his tells. For Hannibal, this was practically a potty dance.

"You should have said something sooner," Will admonished him. Hannibal gave him a disgruntled look.

"I did not wish to stop sooner." He'd been asleep, actually, lulled by the motion of the road and the oldies station Will had turned the radio to.

"We passed the last rest stop for a while a couple of minutes back,” Will continued as if he hadn't been interrupted at all.

Hannibal, shockingly, had no comeback for that. He didn't like that Will had seemingly figured out what he wanted so quickly. Part of his empathetic nature, or merely a lucky guess? Surely, his body language gave nothing away. He turned back to staring out the window, ignoring his companion. Will did the same, humming along to the radio as he drove. Hannibal crossed his legs at the ankles, his thighs pressing a little closer together, and did his best to remain casual. He could hold it, he knew that. But not without cutting things far too close for comfort. Although… how long had he been sleeping for, exactly? He glanced at his watch, a small frown forming on his face. Not as long as he'd thought, apparently. No matter. He'd merely wait for an opportunity for relief to present itself.

Will, for his part, seemed mostly oblivious to his discomfort, humming not-so-quietly along with the radio. Hannibal considered telling him to stop. He considered asking him to sing. He did neither. Instead, he rolled the window down, allowing himself to be distracted by the wind on his face as it tugged strands of hair out of their rightful places. When that no longer provided sufficient distraction, he took to counting the trees along the side of the road as they sped past. A futile exercise, true, and boring, but at least it occupied his mind. Everything else he'd tried thinking about had sooner or later circled back to his steadily increasing need. He'd been drinking water throughout, yes, but he shouldn't need to go this badly yet. A glance over at Will suggested that his companion wasn't feeling anything similar. Of course, Will had been diligent about stopping for breaks.

He made a tight fist in the fabric of his pants, wrinkling what he had so carefully pressed. Better to ruin them that way than… well, he refused to think about that possibility. It wasn't even a possibility. Just the thought of some little boy long ago who'd worn his name. "Will." The request was implied; he knew Will knew what he wanted.

Will shook his head, not taking his eyes off the road. "I'm sorry, but you're gonna have to wait. Until we get off the highway, at least." He chewed at his lip for a moment, appearing to consider something. "There's probably an empty bottle in here somewhere." He didn't imagine for a moment that Hannibal would actually take him up on that offer, but he felt better having put the option out there.

Hannibal didn't bother dignifying that with a reply. Instead, his eyes fluttered open and shut a few times as he retreated into his mind, finding something there to focus on instead of the borderline painful feeling in his bladder.

Will watched him for a few moments but decided against saying anything else. If Hannibal wanted to talk, Hannibal would talk.

  
  


Hannibal was jolted from his reverie by the car coming to an abrupt stop. He hissed through his teeth at the pain the sudden motion caused, not to mention the disappointment of being pulled back to the real world. He gathered his thoughts and took a look out the window. Traffic. A perfect addition to his day. He fixed his glare on Will, who'd done nothing to deserve it. Will, to his credit, ignored the look.

"Sorry about the traffic,” he said, not sounding very sorry. "How're you holding up?"

Hannibal turned his face away from him, as though that would keep Will from knowing what was wrong. As though he didn't already know. He shrugged sharply, his shoulders drawn in together. Tense. Tight. Looking far smaller than a man of his stature had any right to. Will felt almost sorry for him. Since they weren't going to be moving any time soon, he took one hand from the wheel and tentatively laid it on Hannibal's shoulder, feeling him tense even further. The man flinched away from his touch--if he'd known that this was all that was needed to scare Hannibal goddamn Lecter, he'd have set something like this up long ago.

"Hey,” he said, keeping his voice deceptively soft. "Hey, it's okay. You're gonna be fine." Hannibal pretended to ignore him, but Will was nearly certain he was listening. "You, uh, if you can't hold it, that's okay." He thought about offering the bottle again, but… Well, Hannibal would've remembered that. He didn't have to offer again. And if he didn't remember, if he felt he had no choice but to wet his pants? Well, Will couldn't say he was against that.

The car would be a bitch to clean, but seeing Hannibal taken down a peg would be more than worth the trouble. Yet, he reminded himself, Hannibal probably wouldn't just wet himself like that. He had too much control, too much willpower for that. He'd hold out to the very end, no matter what his body was telling him.

Every bit of Hannibal was telling him that he needed relief  _ now. _ He could wait longer, he was sure, but that didn't mean it would be pleasant. Far from it. He found he was so distracted by the discomfort and pain and humility and Will  _ touching him _ that he couldn't find the way back into the recesses of his mind. He was trapped in his body. He hadn’t felt so powerless in years, decades.

The car lurched forward and then stopped almost as soon as it had started, and he held back a gasp. The movement had caused him to lose control ever so slightly, the smallest of leaks wetting his black silk boxer briefs. That was too much. Furious with himself for allowing even that slight humiliation, he grabbed the door handle, planning to let himself out and find somewhere off to the side of the highway to relieve himself.

Will was just a moment too quick for him, catching his wrist and pulling it back. "Fucking Christ, Hannibal! You can't fucking do that!" He yanked him closer with more force than he really needed, using his other hand to close the partially-open door. Keeping hold of his wrist with one hand, he engaged the door locks with the other.

Hannibal swallowed, his throat feeling dry. For once, he didn't seem to have anything to say. Good. Will liked him that way, silent and on edge. For once, Hannibal was the one refusing to make eye contact. That was even better. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair, trying to seem disappointed. "Tell me what you were trying to do."

Hannibal snatched his hand away from Will and tried the door again, though he knew it wouldn't open. "You're in enough trouble already," Will said sharply, as though he was speaking to a misbehaving child and not a colleague. "Answer me. Or we won't be stopping 'til we're back in Baltimore." That got Hannibal's attention.

"I was trying to leave the car." He left out the reason  _ why _ he'd been trying to leave. Will didn't seem satisfied with that.

"Keep going,” he prompted. "Tell me why you were trying to get out of the car on the middle of the highway." They jerked forward again, another momentary shift in traffic demonstrating exactly why getting out here was a terrible idea.

It took Hannibal a few seconds to regain his composure, both from the shock the movement had sent through him and Will giving him  _ orders _ . Which sent a shock in a different way through him, leaving him feeling unable to refuse, no matter how much he wanted to. He swallowed again and tried to press his crossed legs together even tighter.

"I was going to- to relieve myself,” he said, his voice sounding weak even to his own ears.

For a moment, Will looked like he might make him explain further, but his face softened a bit and he reached over to squeeze Hannibal's shoulder gently. "We're going to be moving again soon, and then I'll find the first place to pull over." Hannibal didn't look convinced. Will continued before he could argue. "It's alright if you can't hold it. The seats can be cleaned."

Hannibal tensed visibly, a scowl marring his face. He shrugged Will's hand off his shoulder. "Do not patronize me, Will,” he huffed. "I am  _ fine. _ "

Will narrowed his eyes. "There's no need to get so upset. I'm just trying to help." He let out a breath and leaned back in his seat, looking comfortable and at ease in contrast to Hannibal, who was starting to squirm, his body acting on its own.

"Y'know something, Doctor Lecter?" An edge of something darker was creeping into his voice. "I think I'd like to see you ruin that nice suit of yours." Hannibal stared at him wide-eyed, seeming to hardly understand what he was saying. Will just smirked at him, as though he hadn't just told Hannibal that he wanted him to piss himself.

"I will not." Hannibal managed to get out, after a lengthy silence. "I refuse to- to debase myself so." He swallowed, throat feeling far dryer than his underwear, damp with sweat and urine.

Will shrugged. "I'm not sure you have much of a choice, Doctor. You don't look like you can wait much longer." After a quick glance out to make sure that traffic showed no signs of moving right then, Will leaned over just a tad, closing the distance between himself and Hannibal. He was pleased to see the man shrink back slightly, as though frightened. He ought to be. This was really the least Will could do to exact his revenge on Hannibal. It wouldn't be enough, he knew, but it was a nice start.

He stroked Hannibal's cheek, feeling the confusion and distress radiating off him, then trailed his hand down his body. He let it come to a stop on his belly, just above his bladder. Will pressed the heel of his hand in and Hannibal tensed beneath his palm as he tried to back away.

He hissed and shoved Will away from him, but he'd already gotten what he wanted. He watched wordlessly as Hannibal soaked his pants, a puddle forming on the car seat and spilling over onto the floor. He sucked in a breath, air hissing through his teeth. "Well, Doctor. You really couldn't wait, could you? Poor thing." Then, he let out a harsh, barking laugh. "You're pathetic. Even a child would’ve been able to hold it. You're really just a little boy, aren't you? All of what you've done, it's just been one big tantrum. Trying to get my attention." He scoffed. "You need to learn to ask nicely. I'd have given it to you if you'd asked like a good boy."

As if it had been waiting specifically for Hannibal to have disgraced himself, traffic started to move again. At least Will was focused on the road now, rather than berating him. Hannibal was breathing heavily, both from the shock of having wet himself like a very young child, and from something that had stirred in him when Will started to talk down to him. He didn't  _ like _ it. He didn't. It was… interesting. But he didn't like it.

He squirmed in his seat, feeling very much like the boy Will was treating him as—and tried to retreat back into his mind. He had more success this time, even if the rooms of his mind he found were mostly those from when he was a child, rooms he'd have preferred to forget. Still, it was better than facing the reality of the situation.

Will left him alone; hardly even looking over at him for the rest of the drive. When they’d finally reached their destination, he parked in Hannibal's driveway and cleared his throat. "Well, Doctor Lecter. I'm sure you're past ready to get yourself clean and dry again. Let's hope you can manage to stay that way." Oh, he was enjoying this far too much. "Don't you worry about the car. The dogs have done worse. And it would be cruel of me to expect a little boy to clean up his own mess. You'll find I'm not a cruel man, Doctor." He smiled, lips pressed together in a thin line. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Hannibal stumbled from the car, cringing at how standing up felt like he was wetting himself all over again. He didn’t even have a comeback or farewell for Will. If he'd had a tail, it would have been tucked between his legs. He turned and retreated into his home, to the comforts of a warm shower and his bed. He’d be back in control when he woke, he was sure of it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the change in formatting, I finally have access to a computer again and so I've been writing a little differently. Once again, many thanks to my partner for beta'ing for me! This chapter was inspired by a little fact I found while researching.
> 
> viscount gangnam style III:  
> huh just was reading the wiki page for the irl serial killer that hannibal's backstory in the books is based on  
> mothman:  
> oooo interesting  
> viscount gangnam style III:  
> With his father at war, Chikatilo and his mother shared a single bed. He was a chronic bed wetter, and his mother berated and beat him for each offence.  
> mothman:  
> ohhhhh :3  
> viscount gangnam style III:  
> dbnxndnnsnxn  
> we will pepper that into hannibal background hcs  
> mothman:  
> yesss  
> hhh and that plays into his “oh no, no one can see me be vulnerable ever cause then bad things happen”

The next time it happened wasn’t planned, either.

**********************************************************

It had been a long week for both of them, with the Bernardone case taking up most of their time. Hannibal had his regular work on top of that, and Will could pick up on the little tells of his exhaustion, the way his responses came slightly slower and the bags under his eyes deepened and purpled. He had not, however, expected to arrive at their regular appointment to find Hannibal curled up in his armchair, fast asleep. He looked almost innocent in his sleep, and Will smiled. Some part of him wondered if this was another test, if Hannibal was only pretending to nap to see what Will would do when he thought he wasn’t looking. But no, he was definitely asleep. He checked by brushing his ashen hair out of his face and trailing his fingers down his cheek, drawing a happy sigh from Hannibal. Will shrugged out of his coat and draped it over him like a blanket before taking up residence in his usual seat.

Though he enjoyed their usual verbal sparring, Will found the peace and quiet to be immensely pleasant. He sat and watched Hannibal sleep. He watched him contentedly, tempted to doze off himself but not daring to in case Hannibal woke before first. Instead, he picked a book off of the shelves at random and attempted to read, but he was paying so little attention to it that he shouldn't have really bothered.

Hannibal slept through their appointment and well into the next hour before finally stirring under Will’s coat. Will watched his eyes flutter open and then… he  _ blushed. _ Odd. Hannibal Lecter didn't blush. Not as far as Will knew, at least _. _

"Hey, sleeping beauty. You get some rest? Looked like you needed it." Will smiled. Hannibal didn't. He didn't meet Will's eyes either.

"My apologies--" He murmured. "--for missing our appointment. That was terribly rude of me."

Will waved his hand dismissively. "Please, don't worry about it, Doctor." He laughed softly. "I feel I got some fulfillment out of this session all the same. There was an air of peace in the room." Hannibal didn't respond. He stared down at Will's coat, ran his thumb over the wool. Will's smile dropped some. "Is there something wrong?" he asked, keeping his voice soft. It wasn't like Hannibal to let a conversation drop. Was he feeling unwell, or…? Will's smile returned.

He'd seen Hannibal like this before, he realized. Not very long ago. After his little  _ accident _ in the car. He got up and slowly approached Hannibal. He didn't have Hannibal's keen sense of smell, but he could detect the acrid scent of urine in the air.

“Hannibal. Look at me.” He’d dropped the formality of last names. Hannibal looked up, eyes wide and dark. Close up like this, Will could see how tense he was under the coat.  _ His _ coat. “Is something wrong?” He asked again. “You can tell me, Hannibal. I won’t hurt you.”  _ Not right now, anyway. _ Hannibal looked like he’d rather be anywhere but there.

**********************************************************

“I--” Hannibal swallowed, his throat feeling dry and tight. “I think perhaps it would be best for you to take your leave now.” Though Will would have to take his coat, and then he’d see, confirm what it seemed he’d already guessed.

In his childhood, Hannibal had been a chronic bedwetter. His parents had despaired of finding a solution, and in the end, they’d died before they ever got the chance. The habit remained throughout his teenage years and finally petered out as he reached adulthood. Yet, it had never truly gone away. Every now and then, on a rare occasion, he would wake to wet sheets and a heavy feeling of shame. It had been happening more and more often as of recent... Well, ever since he had met Will. He’d been foolish to let himself fall asleep, to believe that if he closed his eyes he’d open them only a minute later. Now he was trapped, a puddle of his urine soaking into the chair beneath him and Will’s coat (which had thankfully stayed dry as far as he could tell) draped over him like a weighted reminder of the shame pressing on his chest.

Before he could say or think anything else, Will had pulled the coat away and revealed him and his shame to the world. He shivered just slightly at the chill from the cool air meeting his soaked clothes. Will sighed.

“Oh, _ sweetheart.” _

Had it been said under any other circumstances, Hannibal would’ve been ecstatic at the pet name. Despite everything, his heart jumped in his chest at it, not unpleasantly. He shivered again, which Will seemed to mistake for cold, because suddenly warm arms were around him and his head was pressed to Will’s shoulder, breathing his scent in directly, and Will was rubbing his back, and Hannibal crumbled in his arms. He took long, shaky breaths and squeezed his eyes shut, determined not to cry and make even more of a fool of himself.

**********************************************************

Jesus. Will can’t even bring himself to tease Hannibal right now, not when he’s so completely defenseless. Inside, his mind was racing, and his heart wasn’t far behind it. Outside, he remained calm and collected. For Hannibal’s sake.

He made soft hushing sounds and guided him up from the chair, wincing at the stain left behind. At least he knew Hannibal had the money to pay for the cleaning. “You’re okay, baby,” he murmured. He wasn’t fully sure where this sudden stream of affection had come from, but he wasn’t going to question it right then. “I got you. I got you.”

He slowly maneuvered the two of them over to the dry chair, where he sat and pulled Hannibal down onto his lap, not caring one bit that he was getting wet. He’d had worse. Hannibal let out a soft little whine and nuzzled into the crook of his neck and Will felt his chest go painfully tight. Hannibal was sweet like this. Will could almost forget what he was, forgive what he’d done. It was hard to look down and see both a frightened little boy and a cannibalistic serial killer, but in that moment all he could see was the frightened little boy.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. We can stay here as long as you need, yeah?” Well, ideally they’d get up soon so Hannibal could get cleaned up. “You don’t have to talk until you’re ready.” He sighed and leaned back in the chair. “You don’t have to do anything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting back into the humiliation aspect more next chapter, so enjoy the fluff while it lasts.

**Author's Note:**

> Keeping this open to continuing if it gets positive feedback!


End file.
